


laughing with a mouth full of blood

by mysidibule (dragonflame3333)



Series: confessionals [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Cannibalism, Disembowelment, Gender-neutral Reader, Mild Gore, Other, Strangulation, if it can even be called that when they're different species
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:06:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5489798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonflame3333/pseuds/mysidibule
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>side story: meals that never happened.</p>
<p>(in which a no mercy reader has desires of the flesh, somewhat literally.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	laughing with a mouth full of blood

**Author's Note:**

> not particularly happy with this but w/e; mostly just an excuse for gore. tg's got me pumped up smth fierce. (one of these days i should like, write tg fic instead of pushing it all on ut when it barely fits lmao) "but wait," you ask. "doesn't sans have 1hp?" yes. yes he does. it's tragic, really. this is another non-canon drabble for "i was human".
> 
> insp by [this](http://professorozpin.tumblr.com/post/135491006804/drowning-in-theories-tgre-volume-5-extra) and [this](http://professorozpin.tumblr.com/post/134825212174/translation-of-ishida-suis-tumblr-post-16-nov) (warnings for... gore... and, if you care, slight tgre spoilers that make no sense out of context)

You want to be eaten. In the metaphorical sense, in the sexual sense, in the literal sense; it doesn’t matter. If it’s all the same to you, why bother separating the two? Or three, or however many other meanings there are to eating. (There sure are a lot.)

Consumption is absorption. It’s metamorphosis. It’s new; it’s change. For you, it’s him taking in all that you are, tainted and rotten, and shaping it into something else. Pure energy, clean and simple. Wouldn’t he be lovely with you in him? Like pouring gasoline on a bonfire, he’d burn brighter, rise even higher. He’s flame licking at your heels, devouring trash tinder in his heat.

(Invite your friends over for the party, why don’t you? It’s a joint barbecue-cremation. He’s serving hotdogs.)

So much heat. You’re so warm and he’s so cold. No heart there; no love there. You just want to give him what he doesn’t have. Take this awful thing; it’s not like _you_ need it. Well, maybe to live, but that’s a trifling matter. Could this be LOVE? How wonderful.

(The closest you’ve ever been to him is when he was disemboweling you.)

If he could just…

…sink his fingers inside you, phalanges twisting your innards…

…bite into your skin, juices bursting like fruit…

…rip out your organs with his grin and have a feast…

…weave rope out of your intestines, messy garrote to choke you with…

…wouldn’t that be nice?

You wonder where it’d go. Would you just sink down? Go straight through him? Imagine that: your blood, trickling down his spine; your flesh, dropping to the ground with a wet slap; your grit clinging to his bones (guess now he’s got some guts).

You imagine, also, him slamming you against the ground once more. Broken teeth and broken bones. His smile pressed up against your mouth, overflowing with blood, in a hard kiss. Liquid smeared over and dripping down both your faces.

_Kill me, kill me, kill me. Hurt me, hurt me, hurt me._

You deserve it, after all.

It’d be nice to stop existing. It’s overwhelming. Being so determined, carrying on over and over again. Nothing’s satisfying. Everything is endlessly finite. Life is, in the end, a pain. (And there’s much better pain to be had.)

You have the feeling that if he were to eat you, you’d be gone for good. No more guilt, no more pain, no more anything.

Release.

Oh, but before you go, you have to have your fun with him.

You’ll absolutely dismantle him. You’re going to take apart his bones, one by one. Let’s become acquainted intimately, shall we? You want to explore every inch of him; you even want to become part of him, become one. 

But wait! Maybe you’re going about this the wrong way. He doesn’t seem interested, and for good reason. You’d probably taste disgusting; poisonous things always do. Eat _him_ , instead. You are what you eat, right? If you take him into you, perhaps you’ll become something good. You’ve always liked him better than you like yourself.

It’s how you show your LOVE.

(It’s the only way you remember how, now.)

If you could just…

…hook your fingers in his ribcage…

…run your tongue along the edges of his vertebrae…

…place your clenched fist within his skull and shove your fingers through the eye sockets…

…tear it from his spine, crack it open and suck out the marrow with an eager slurp…

…everything turns to ashes in your mouth.

(It’s not like he’s got hair for you to grab onto while you’re kissing anyway. Or lips to kiss with, for that matter.)

–

“What’s this one called?” you ask as you delicately rip off one of his finger bones.

He makes a pained sound.

You’re just repaying the favor.


End file.
